As he passed through Orange and took the Parkes road, Eddie knew his destination was not far away. Would he prolong the journey by circuiting through Parkes? No, Eddie, he told himself; you made your decision; let’s go!
At the intersection the car headed straight toward Forbes. An hour later he was knocking on the door of the Bishop’s house. The door was opened by a smiling middle-aged woman.
“Welcome Father. I’m Deidre, the housekeeper. Great to meet you! Come in!”
Clean, austere, perhaps heritage – Eddie’s first impressions as he entered the 19th century building.
“The Bishop is here to welcome you, also your P.P. Just through here.”
Eddie was ushered into the ‘community room’ – a large room, sparsely but comfortably furnished.
A tall man with greying hair and a ready smile immediately rose and walked toward Eddie, extending his hand. “Welcome Eddie!” he said, as he warmly welcomed Eddie with a strong handshake and pat on the back.
“Thanks Bishop,” Eddie smiled back.
“No formalities! I’m Mark. Come and sit down. Deidre will bring us some refreshments. While I have this opportunity of talking to you I’d like to thank you very much for your decision to minister out here rather than in the city. It is a big decision and I am deeply grateful. We white Australians – bad phrasing but you know what I mean – are only just – and I emphasize just – are only just beginning to realize that the Aboriginal race has a rich culture, but, in lack of understanding, we have been destroying their culture.”
“I wish more ‘white’ Australians would think that way!” Eddie spoke softly. “In some places children are still being taken from their parents.” Momentarily, the years slipped backwards and Eddie brushed away a tear.
“Yes, you’re right. It has been shameful. But I think that is coming to an end,” Mark replied. “However, we still have a long way to go – a very long way to go.” He paused. “You have my sincere gratitude. I hope you will always remember that if you need me, please call. I’ll be right behind any decisions you make to help the Aboriginals in your area. You will find some great strengths, but you will also find some sad weaknesses!”
“Thanks Mark. Thanks very much!”
“Now on a lighter note!” Bishop Mark smiled as he continued. “The Mons. is having a little rest. Eddie, you will find, as we all have, that our Mons’ bark is a lot worse than his bite! Once you get to know him, he can be quite a card – and a good friend!”
“Thanks for the warning,” Eddie smiled. He had barely finished his response when the said Monsignor Shamus Murphy walked in – a fairly tall man with receding grey hair and piercing blue eyes.
“You’ve arrived, Eddie! How was the drive?” Even after decades of years in Australia, his Irish accent remained.
“Good afternoon, Monsignor!”
“Look, laddie, if we’re to be working together, you’d better call me ‘Shamus’.”
“Thanks, Mon… uh… Shamus!”
Over tea and biscuits Eddie was given a summary of the history and geography of the Brewarrina parish.
“We’ll have dinner here tonight,” Mons Shamus eventually announced. “And stay the night. And by the way, Eddie, I was driven down, so I’ll be driving back with you tomorrow!”